


i will follow you into the dark

by asongforjonsa



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dark Jon Snow, Dark!Jon, Dubious Morality, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Past Abuse, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, jonsa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 02:30:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15281610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asongforjonsa/pseuds/asongforjonsa
Summary: Sansa is Jon's anger management counselor after he's released from prison. She doesn't know that he went to prison for beating up her abusive boyfriend, and that he's followed her back to Winterfell.**He couldn’t have stopped himself from pummeling Joffrey even if he’d tried, not after he saw her hit her head against the brick wall and collapse on the ground. He took Joffrey down with one punch, but he didn’t stop there. He checked the redhead to make sure she was breathing before he went back to that little shit, straddled his chest, and smashed his face in.Sam told him after he was arrested that Joffrey’s nose and cheekbones were broken, two of his teeth were knocked out, and four ribs were cracked. Jon was proud he’d laid waste to such an asshole, anyone who beat women deserved to have their ass kicked. And Sansa… She deserved to be treated like a queen.She was the most beautiful woman Jon had ever seen. All while he was in prison, he wondered what she was doing, who she was with, what she would feel like in his arms....





	i will follow you into the dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Janina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/gifts).



> For my darling [Janina](http://what-would-wonderwoman-do.tumblr.com)!
> 
> You were the first Jonsa writer I became really close to, and I'm so grateful for your friendship. You are a magnificent writer and a wonderful friend, and we are so lucky to have you as part of this fandom!! Love you girl <3 
> 
> Thanks to Brad for looking it over :) 
> 
> And thank you to the Jonsa Creatives for organizing this!!

“Sansa? Your next session attendees are here.”

“Thank you, Myranda,” Sansa replied with a sigh. She was exhausted, and had been for weeks. Working as an anger management counselor was more draining than she could have ever imagined, and she found herself wondering on a regular basis if she was cut out for the work.

Most of her work was done in group settings, but the tougher cases and clients on parole got one-on-one time as well. The majority of her clients were men; she had just one group therapy session per week for women.

Her clients were angry, they had impulse control issues, and some had committed violent assaults. She always had a guard on hand to keep her safe, but there hadn’t been any issues thus far.

She found it hard to judge any of them, especially the ones who showed a real desire to change. She knew what it was like to deal with an angry person who wouldn’t change. Sansa had been in the middle of getting her masters degree in counseling in King’s Landing when she’d entered an abusive relationship with her ex, Joffrey. She decided to focus on anger management after he knocked her unconscious outside a club one night. She didn’t hear from him after that; when she woke up the next day, she was in her apartment and her family was scurrying around packing her bags. She finished her degree back in Winterfell, and had been practicing and working towards her Ph.D for two years.

Sansa often wondered what happened that night at the club. Her family was always evasive and refused to give her answers. All she knew was that Joffrey had never bothered her again. She worried occasionally that he would show up in one of her sessions, the little shit. She knew if he did, she would handle him right this time. She understood how he ticked, and how to diffuse angry situations. She’d taken a self-defense course after returning to Winterfell, just to be on the safe side.

Sansa went into the gathering room (“our safe space” the sign said) to meet her newest group of clients. They varied in appearance, some short, some tall, most fit and young with a glint of rage in their eyes. As a woman (and a pretty one at that), she almost always dealt with men whose mommy issues emerged and were directed at her.

One man was different. His brown eyes were sad, not angry. He’d pulled his jet black curls back in a bun, and his muscles rippled as he crossed his arms over his chest. His name tag said “Jon Snow.”

Something about him drew her in from the second they locked eyes. He didn’t speak up the whole session except to say his name was Jon and that he’d just gotten out of a two-year stint in prison for aggravated assault.

She felt his eyes on her the entire session, and found herself wondering about him after work. Sansa made it a point to not look into her clients’ backgrounds; her boss alerted her when one had committed particularly heinous acts, so she could be on her guard, but she preferred to let the individuals reveal their truths on their own time. She only broke that rule if she felt like they were lying or had stayed closed off for a few weeks.

This was the first time she was tempted to break it right off the bat. Sansa felt like she knew Jon Snow somehow. His face was so familiar, his eyes so sad, the way he clenched his jaw when he spoke about serving time in prison so alluring…

Sansa cursed at herself for thinking about him that way. Not once in the two years she’d been practicing had she felt attracted to a client. Maybe it was time to venture back out into the dating scene, since she hadn’t gone on a date since Joffrey. Surely she was just a little thirsty and eager for romantic attention; she just needed to get laid, that’s all.

Right?

**

Jon couldn’t believe he’d actually seen her. He was _with_ her, in the same physical space as Sansa Stark.

He’d gotten to look in the eyes of the woman he saved, the woman he fantasized about. He still didn’t know much about her, but now that he’d spent actual time in her presence, he knew she would be his.

It’s why he was in Winterfell, why he was in her group. He was supposed to establish himself in King’s Landing, where he’d served his sentence, but he got special permission to move to Winterfell. He still wasn’t entirely sure how Sam’s father pulled it off.

Jon knew it was manipulative, he knew it was borderline stalking, and he didn’t give a shit. Sansa would be his. He kept his eyes trained on her face the entire session. He wanted to memorize every part of her, her sky blue eyes and rosy red lips, how she would bite the inside of her cheek when she heard a detail about an angry outburst that bothered her. Jon took it all in, and he replayed it on a loop once he got home.

Jon reflected on the events of the previous three years as he ate dinner. His best friend Sam came to visit Jon every week, sometimes twice a week, the whole time he was incarcerated. He was the only friend Jon had left, and the closest thing he’d ever had to a brother. His father Randyll Tarly took Jon’s case pro bono, since Sam was still in law school. But even a powerful man like Randyll hit barriers in Jon’s quest for justice.

“Her name is Sansa Stark,” Sam said into the phone two weeks after Jon’s arrest. “Her father is Ned Stark, Warden of the North, and he’s gone to great lengths to keep her out of this. I’m sorry, Jon. My dad tried every approach, we can’t get her as a witness.” Jon could put the puzzle pieces together himself: without her as a witness to say that Jon defended her from Joffrey’s assault, he would be painted as a madman who just beat up the sniveling little shit for no reason. It would be Jon’s word against Joffrey’s, and who would believe some nobody against a member of the closest thing Westeros had to a royal family?

So Jon resigned himself to his fate. His bail was denied, undoubtedly at the insistence of Joffrey’s mother, Cersei Lannister. Randyll got him a deal, two years hard time in return for pleading to one count of aggravated assault; Jon was facing 10-20 years if he’d gone to trial for attempted murder. He was fortunate to serve his sentence in Kings Landing, since it meant Sam could still visit. He worked in the library, added a ton of muscle working out in the gym, attended his mandatory anger management counseling, and kept a low profile.

All the while thinking of that red-headed girl he’d saved. He knew her name and where she was from, and that she had only suffered a concussion that night. Jon could see the rage in that blonde asshole’s eyes; he would’ve killed her if Jon hadn’t stepped in.

He couldn’t have stopped himself from pummeling Joffrey even if he’d tried, not after he saw her hit her head against the brick wall and collapse on the ground. He took Joffrey down with one punch, but he didn’t stop there. He checked the redhead to make sure she was breathing before he went back to that little shit, straddled his chest, and smashed his face in.

Sam told him after he was arrested that Joffrey’s nose and cheekbones were broken, two of his teeth were knocked out, and four ribs were cracked. Jon was proud he’d laid waste to such an asshole, anyone who beat women deserved to have their ass kicked. And Sansa… She deserved to be treated like a queen.

She was the most beautiful woman Jon had ever seen. All while he was in prison, he wondered what she was doing, who she was with, what she would feel like in his arms.... Now that he’d seen her in person, he simply had to have her. Her skin looked so soft, her eyes looked kind but were tinged with sadness, and her mouth…. Oh, her mouth. Jon found himself staring at that in particular all during the first session.

He was rock hard by the time he got in the shower, and he jacked off without hesitation, focusing on how Sansa’s gorgeous red lips would look wrapped around his cock. He wanted to gag her with it, watch the tears fall from her eyes while she took him all the way down her throat. He wanted to eat her pussy until she screamed his name, and he wanted to fuck her without mercy. He came with her name on his lips, shooting rope after rope of cum on the shower wall.

He collapsed into bed and fell asleep thinking about Sansa. He knew he had to play the long game if he was going to win her over. It was going to be a long 12 weeks…

**

The 12 weeks were, in fact, excruciating for both of them. The attraction between Sansa and Jon became _blatantly_ obvious after just a few sessions. She flushed when he spoke in group, when he brought her coffee and asked about her day, when he chatted with her after the sessions. It was so obvious that her boss made the decision to handle Jon’s one-on-one sessions himself. He made the excuse to Sansa that she had a full plate already, but she saw right through it.

After six weeks, Davos asked her if there was anything she wanted to tell him. She waved it off, saying that she just felt a connection to Jon and saw his potential. Davos merely told her to keep it professional until after the program. His reaction floored her, and she wondered if Davos knew something about Jon that she didn’t. She’d been beating herself up for feeling so attracted to a client, but after Davos’s comment, she felt like maybe it was okay to make an exception just this once.

Sansa was _plagued_ with dreams of Jon. Sweet ones, dirty ones, incredibly explicit ones. It went on the entire time he was in the program. Twelve weeks of non-stop dreaming about Jon Snow, combined with the palpable tension between them whenever they interacted, made Sansa feel like she was losing her mind. She nearly wept with relief when their “graduation” arrived.

“So, Sansa,” Jon said after the final session ended, “How about a drink to celebrate?” He was leaned against the door of her office, and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning. He had that look in his eyes, the one that said he wanted to rip her clothes off and devour her. It turned her panties to ash, and he’d been giving it to her for _weeks._ It was time for payback.

Sansa sauntered over to him. “How about we go dancing instead? I’d like to burn off some energy,” she murmured. Jon audibly gulped but nodded. “I’ll, um, pick you up at 7 if you give me your address.”

She raced home and picked out her slinkiest dress, a tight black number that clung to her curves perfectly. She set her hair in gentle curls and went for a sultry makeup look. “Shit, I look _good,_ ” she said to her reflection as she heard Jon ring the bell.

He looked like he’d had a stroke when she opened the door. He opened his mouth to say something but seemed to have lost the ability to form words. He looked hot as hell, his gray button-up shirt was rolled up to his elbows and it was tight enough to show his muscles. She knew when he turned around, that ass you could bounce a quarter off would be on display.

“Shall we go?” Sansa purred. She took Jon’s hand in hers and led him to the car. All she wanted was to pull him into her bed and fuck him til morning, but she figured a little payback for all the “fuck me” looks he’d shot her over the past three months was in order.

They barely made it an hour at the club before Jon all but dragged her out. She’d been grinding on him the entire time, his hot breath on her neck, his dirty words in her ear. She rubbed his hard cock through his pants while he sped her through town, until he growled that if she kept it up their evening would be over a lot sooner than they both hoped.

It was later that night, when he was buried inside her for the third time, watching her cry his name as he made her cum again and again, that he realized he was hopelessly in love with her. She pushed him onto his back and rode him hard and fast until they crashed through orgasms together and collapsed in a heap of tangled limbs.

They spent almost every day and night together for three weeks, getting to know each other intimately and becoming closer than they could’ve imagined. Jon felt guilty for not telling her the truth, but he didn’t want to ruin what they had. Sansa felt like there was something he wasn’t telling her, but she decided to run with it, because she’d had enough drama in her life, and she didn’t want to lose the best thing that had ever happened to her.

They were a month into dating when Sansa had her first panic “episode.” She refused to call it a “panic attack,” but Jon saw through it. They were at the grocery store, getting ingredients to cook dinner together, and Sansa suddenly dug her nails into Jon’s arm so hard it drew blood. She went white as a ghost and started shaking, and didn’t stop until Jon whisked her out of the store and had her securely in the car.

He got her in the passenger seat and knelt in front of her on the ground, his hands on her shoulders. “Sansa, what is it? Breathe, baby, breathe,” he said urgently.

“I thought… I thought…” Sansa stammered. She took a couple deep breaths.

“I thought I saw my ex. I could’ve sworn that was him!” She sobbed. Jon rubbed her arms soothingly, but his heart clenched. He’d been deluding himself for weeks, thinking he could keep this from her.

Jon turned on the car so she could sit in the air conditioning, and went back into the grocery store to check out. Her breathing was more steady when he got back, and they drove home in silence, hand in hand.

She seemed to have calmed down by the time they finished putting away the groceries. She was about to start chopping veggies, but Jon took her by the hand and led her to the sofa.

“Jon, what is it?” Sansa murmured with a furrowed brow.

“Sansa, I-” Jon looked into her clear blue eyes and felt his heart drop. He was about to lose her, he could feel it.

“You’re scaring me, Jon.”

“Sansa, I know what happened with your ex,” Jon blurted.

Sansa raised her eyebrow. “What do you mean? How could you? Nobody but my parents know.”

He squeezed her hand for what he assumed would be the last time.

“I know because I was there that night. I beat the shit out of Joffrey after you hit the wall and collapsed. That’s what I went to prison for, assaulting Joffrey Baratheon.”

Sansa’s eyes filled with tears, confusion overtaking her beautiful features. “I don’t understand,” she stammered. She tried to pull her hand away but Jon held tight.

“I’m so sorry, Sansa, I wanted to tell you from the first moment we met-”

Sansa yanked her hand away and leapt up from the sofa. The confusion on her face was quickly replaced by fury. “You were there that night, you know who I was from the beginning?!” she cried. “You knew and you never said anything?!”

Jon tried to grab her but she shoved him away. “Did you follow me here, Jon?! Did you _stalk_ me and manipulate me?!”

“No, Sansa, no! I mean, I came to Winterfell because I knew you were here, because I wanted to meet you and make sure you were safe. But you were so beautiful, and so kind, and I just, I couldn’t tell you, I know that was a mistake, I’m so sorry, I didn’t expect to fall in love with you-”

Sansa cried out. “You let me have sex with you, you let me fall-” she broke off her sentence with a choked sob.

“Sansa, please, baby, please,” Jon begged, “You have to believe me, I didn’t mean for this to happen-”

“You had a _million_ opportunities to tell me the truth, and you didn’t! You lied to me, you manipulated me, you made me-”

She cut herself off and set her face with iron. “Get out. Get out of my house, and never come back, Jon Snow,” she grit through her teeth.

Jon strode over and got in her face, gripping her arms tightly. “No. I’m not leaving until you hear me.” A flash of fear ran through Sansa, and her fight or flight instinct kicked in. She twisted from his arms and ran from the room, hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

Sansa darted into her bedroom and hurled the door shut, only to have it stopped by Jon’s form. She looked around herself in a panic. There was nowhere else to go. She was trapped in her bedroom with a madman, with the only option remaining to fight.

She would not be a shrinking violet, not ever again. Not after what Joffrey did to her, and not after Jon made her feel so vulnerable. She stalked up to him and slapped him in the face, _hard._ Her tears dried on her cheeks, her sadness and fear replaced by white-hot anger.

“How DARE you?!” Sansa shrieked. She pushed him against the door and slapped him again. “How fucking _dare_ you, Jon?!” Jon took the first couple of blows before snapping and pushing back against her. He shoved her onto the bed and climbed over her, boxing her in. She scratched his face and tried to kick him in the groin, but it was no use. She was scrappy, but he was strong.

“Stop it, Sansa!” Jon finally roared in her face. “I don’t want to hurt you!” He pinned her arms over her head with an imploring look in his eyes.

“You’ve already hurt me, you bastard!” Sansa yelled back. “Let go of me! We are finished, I never want to see you again!”

Jon growled and snapped his teeth at her as he ground his dick against her. She could feel how hard he was through his jeans, just those and the material of her sundress serving as a barrier. She considered him sick for just a moment before realizing she, too, was incredibly turned on. She should’ve been terrified, not aroused!  _What's the matter with me?!_

“I’m never letting you go, Sansa,” Jon growled. “You are _mine,_ you always will be.” Sansa squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip _hard_ to keep from moaning. A squeak escaped her lips, and when she opened her eyes, Jon was gazing down at her, a bemused look having replaced the fury.

The incredible swirl of emotions raging through Sansa suddenly fell by the wayside, her need for Jon having surpassed everything else. She would unpack her emotions later, after he took care of her.

She lifted her head and snapped, “Then fucking _show me._ Show me I belong to you.” Jon sat back for a moment, momentarily stunned into silence that she was challenging him that way.

“Did you lose your nerve all of a sudden, you monster? I said _show me._ Show me who I belong to before I forget,” Sansa taunted. She hadn’t the slightest idea where any of it was coming from, and she decided to save worrying about it for another day.

Jon growled and sprang into action, yanking her dress over her head and her panties down her legs. He buried his face in her cunt and fucked her with his fingers, sucking on her clit and rubbing her g-spot so aggressively, she thought she might die on the spot. Sansa tried to wriggle away from his attention, but he gripped her hip hard enough to leave bruises and grunted for her to stay still.

Sansa screamed through her first orgasm, folding up and in on herself and trapping Jon’s face between her thighs. She fell back on the bed, limp, until she noticed Jon wasn’t stopping. He kept sucking her clit and fucking her with his fingers until she’d yelled herself hoarse through two more orgasms. She pulled his hair and dragged him up her body until they were nose to nose, chest to heaving chest.

Jon pulled his cock out through his jeans and buried himself to the hilt inside Sansa’s still spasming pussy. He bent her legs back and pounded into her relentlessly, his forceful slamming hips making the bed shake. Sansa screamed and cried and clawed at Jon’s chest, raking her nails up and down his flesh.

“Who owns this pussy, Sansa?” Jon grunted. Sansa wailed and tried to turn her head to the side, but Jon caught her under her chin and held her in place. He stopped thrusting and leaned in as close as possible, growling, “I said, who owns this pussy?”

Sansa blinked tears from her eyes and yelped, “You do! My pussy is yours, Jon!” Jon grinned wickedly and flipped her onto her stomach. He bit the back of her neck and held her down as he fucked her into the bed.

Jon roared and filled her with his cum before collapsing on top of her on the bed. He rolled off her quickly and pulled her into his arms. He knew they had to talk, and that they weren’t out of the woods, but he still had hope-

Until he saw her crying silently against his chest. He tried to kiss her tears away, but that made her cry harder. “I’m so sorry, Sansa, please believe me. _Please,_ baby. I love you, I love you so much Sansa,” he begged. Sansa sniffled loudly and looked up at him with wide, wet eyes.

“Jon,” she whimpered. She opened her mouth to say something before stopping herself, and instead got out of bed and pulled her clothes back on. She cried the whole time, and sat on the bed when she finished.

Jon tried to reach for her hands but she pulled back, and Jon’s stomach hit his feet. Sansa took several deep breaths, clearly trying to stop her tears. They wouldn’t stop, and she resolved to see it through.

“I love you too, Jon,” she murmured. “I do.” Jon smiled widely and started to reach for her, but she put her hand up to stop him.

“I love you, but this is terrifying. I was scared of us before this afternoon, and now I’m so scared I feel like I can’t breathe.”

“Sansa, please-”

“Jon, you need to listen to me. I need time, and I need space. You _have_ to respect that. If we are going to have any chance in the future, you have to give me time now.” She stopped speaking then, and went back to crying quietly.

Jon felt tears prick his eyes, but he nodded and got dressed quickly. He needed to get out of there before he started sobbing and begging her shamelessly. He knew she was right; this had been a serious breach of trust. It was sketchy, and over the line, and if he had a sister and someone did that to her, he’d freak out.

A couple tears slipped down his cheeks before he stopped in front of Sansa and kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Sansa, I really do. I’ll be here if and when you’re ready to talk.”

He heard her break down in heaving sobs as he shut the door to her bedroom. Walking out of her house was the most difficult thing he’d ever done.

The following seven days were hell for Jon and Sansa. They didn’t know it, but they suffered the same and used the exact same coping mechanisms: eating ice cream, crying, sleeping, and going on runs really early in the morning.

Sansa felt like she’d lost her mind. How could she miss someone who was so manipulative? Jon was adamant that he didn’t set out to make her his, but could she really believe him? Could she trust _anyone_ anymore? Could she even trust herself?

Jon spent the first three days beating himself up. How could he have been so stupid? He’d lied to himself and to Sansa; he wasn’t there to just meet her and check up on her. He’d set out to make her _his,_ to possess her like a psycho. He was worse than that shit Joffrey. She deserved so much better, and he knew he could be better for her if she would just give him the chance.

He accepted on day four that he couldn’t make Sansa do anything. If she didn’t want to see him ever again, he had to accept it. That was the first step of improving himself. He would love her until he died, but he would never force her to do anything.

He felt somewhat better after making that realization. Sansa, on the other hand, was deep in the pits of despair. She hated herself, she hated Jon, she hated Joffrey, she hated everyone. She didn’t know if she could ever forgive Jon for what he did, or herself for wanting him anyway.

It wasn’t until day six that Sansa forgave herself the tiniest bit. She decided to give him a chance to explain himself, and to see if they could make a proper go of it. She chalked it up to their connection, and even though she thought it very well could have been a mistake, she reached out to him. He was set to arrive at noon the next day, a Sunday.

She was cautiously optimistic, and smiled a bit when she heard the bell ring at 11:45. _He’s so eager to see me, he’s early. That has to mean something._

Her smile faded as soon as she opened the door to see _Joffrey_ on her doorstep.

**

Sansa gasped and tried to shut the door, but Joffrey stuck his foot in to stop her. “Hello, _Sansa,_ ” he sneered. “Long time no see.”

He pushed the door open and stalked in the house, his face just as pinched as she remembered. “What do you want, Joffrey?” Sansa cried. “Why are you here?”

“Just checking on you,” he said with a faux-casual air. “You left town so quickly three years ago, and it’s taken me a long time to find you. The Warden of the North hid you well.”

Sansa tried to reach for a knife, but Joffrey blocked her with a “tsk.” “No need for that, Sansa, I’m just here to chat.”

“I find that hard to believe, you were never one for friendly chats,” Sansa retorted. “Get out of my house, Joffrey, before I call the cops.”

Joffrey sneered, “What would you tell them? I have no record, you were too meek to file a report. You always were a doormat.”

Sansa looked around for any kind of weapon, dread settling in the pit of her stomach when she realized he had her cornered. She glanced at the clock, but Jon was still a solid 10 minutes from arriving.

“I missed you, doormat that you are. Nobody submits to my will quite like you,” he cackled. He could tell she was cornered, and it made that pinched little face light up.

Sansa’s hands shook, but she would not back down. Not ever again. Her skin had turned to steel, and he would not control her. So when he grabbed her arms, she kneed him in the groin. She jabbed his back with her elbow as he bent over with a groan, and kicked him in the stomach when he hit the ground.

“I do _not_ submit to your will anymore, you sorry piece of shit!” she screamed. She kept kicking him, and kicking him, and kicking him, screaming that he would never hurt her again, that she was stronger than he would ever know. Joffrey cried like a little bitch, when he tried to grab her ankle she stomped on his wrist. She would’ve killed him, had Jon not come bursting into the room and pulled her off the writhing piece of shit.

“Sansa, Sansa!” Jon yelled, “Sansa stop, it’s me!” She fought against him until she realized it was him holding her. “Jon?!” she whimpered. “Oh my god!” she buried her face in his chest with a sob. Jon looked down at Joffrey and made eye contact with him. His eyes bulged out of his head, and Jon put on his best, most menacing face.

“Remember me, Joffrey?” Jon growled, his arms still tight around Sansa. Joffrey squeaked a yes, and started to threaten him, but Jon shifted him and Sansa around so he could step on Joffrey’s throat.

“If you _ever_ come near Sansa again, if you ever set foot in Winterfell again, I promise you, Joffrey Baratheon, _we_ will kill you. She’s more than capable of killing you herself, and I won’t stop her. Do you understand?” Joffrey managed to nod, and Jon kicked his head for good measure.

Jon turned his attention to Sansa, who seemed to still be in a state of shock. “Jon,” she gasped, “Jon you have to get out of here. You have a record for beating him, you’ll go back to prison.”

Jon kissed her forehead. “I want to be here with you, Sansa,” he murmured.

Sansa surged up to kiss him _hard_ on the lips. “I can’t lose you, Jon. Please, go now, before I call the cops to report this.”

He kissed her back and hugged her tightly. “Come to my house after you’re done, okay?” Sansa nodded, and saw him out the door.

She called the cops, then her father, and braced herself for impact.

Jon paced back and forth in his house, frantically wringing his hands together, for the first two hours after leaving Sansa’s house. He knew she was at the police station, and her father was probably on hand. Jon was not going to let Sansa go to prison for hitting Joffrey like he did; he’d kill the bastard before he allowed him to hurt the love of his life again.

 _She_ is _the love of my life. Even if she never forgives me, even if we’re never together again._

He fell asleep on his sofa around 2 a.m., and didn’t wake up for three hours, when he heard light knocking on his door. He leapt to his feet and threw the door open. Sansa stood before him, drenched from head to toe from the rain and shivering. Jon pulled her inside and wrapped his arms around her as she wept into his shirt.

Jon held her until her teeth started chattering. He made her a cup of hot chocolate in silence and went to turn on the bath. Sansa came into the bathroom, hovering in the doorway while he filled the tub with rose-scented bubbles. Jon straightened back up and led Sansa back into his bedroom. They still hadn’t spoken a word since she arrived. He grabbed his fluffy bathrobe from the closet and rested it on the bed. Sansa started to unbutton her shirt, but her hands shook too hard, and she looked up at Jon with pleading eyes.

He undressed her lovingly, the sounds of the running bath and pounding rain the only noises filling the house. Jon wrapped her in his bathrobe once she was rid of her wet clothes, and went back into the bathroom to turn off the tub and toss her clothes in the dryer. Sansa followed him, and when he stood back up from turning off the water, she started to tug at his shirt.

Jon raised an eyebrow but complied. He stood naked before her, and she dropped the robe from her shoulders. Jon’s cock twitched as he led her towards the tub and helped her in. He climbed in behind her, and she settled in his lap. Only once his arms were wrapped around her middle, and she was leaned against his chest, did she let out the breath she’d been holding.

Jon kissed the back of her neck languidly, taking his time to map out her skin with his lips. Sansa sniffled, relaxing against him for a long while as he kissed her body tenderly. He grazed her earlobe with his teeth, which sent shivers up her spine. She turned her head, and Jon took her chin in his hand so he could kiss her ever-so-gently, his lips barely ghosting over hers. Sansa turned in his lap to straddle him, sighing in relaxation and contentment was she was settled. She cupped his face in her hands and leaned in for another kiss, but stopped just shy of his lips.

“I told the police that Joffrey was assaulting me the night you beat him,” she murmured. “They’re going to reopen the case, your conviction should be overturned.” Jon gripped her hips hard, his eyes filling with tears.

“I’m so sorry my father kept that from me, Jon,” she continued. “I would’ve been there as a witness, I would’ve thanked you for saving me, if I’d known.”

“Sansa,” Jon gasped, “Please, don’t apologize to me, baby. I owe you the apology, for not being honest with you. I shouldn’t have manipulated you like that.”

Sansa rested her forehead against his. “You did lie, and so did my father. I’m going to have to deal with my anger towards him later, but I don’t want to talk about him right now.”

She leaned back, her hands still on his face. “I love you, Jon Snow. I want to be with you. You have to be honest with me from now on, that’s the only way we can make it work.”

Jon pulled her closer. “I promise, Sansa, I’ll be so honest with you, you’ll get sick of it. I’ll never lie to you again, baby. I love you so much, Sansa.”

She whimpered his name and kissed him, tears streaming down her face to match his own. She rocked against him, his cock sliding against her folds. “Make love to me, Jon,” she moaned.

He pulled her from the tub and dried them off quickly before they fell into bed together, their insecurities and fears laid bare, their secrets exposed.


End file.
